


Looping

by SnowWolf5552



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: A Date With Markiplier, Angst, Blood, Death, Dimension Travel, Eye Gouging, Flashbacks, Gen, Gore, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Instability, No one is spared, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Second Person, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Hatred, Suicide, Time Loop, Time Travel, Who Killed Markiplier?, greed - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 08:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 8,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13678416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWolf5552/pseuds/SnowWolf5552
Summary: It's never-ending and you cannot escape except there is one thing you have not done.





	1. Looping and Looping and-

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! A few of you may have seen this on Tumblr already, but this is a product of accidental brainstorming. If you haven't guessed, this has to do with time loops, a certain someone from a particular video of Mark's, and a handful of happy accidents.
> 
> Welcome to Looping Verse. Please, enjoy!

You have been looping for hours? days? weeks? All sense of time has escaped you. You no longer keep count of how many dates you’ve gone on. You no longer keep count of how many times you have failed. You no longer keep count of how many “endings” you have gotten.

“Shoot him!” The Mark on the left cries out. You close your eyes; you know how this will end. Your grip gets tighter.

“He’s a bad person that does bad things to good people!” The one on the right shouts. Slowly, you feel a smile crawl across your face.

You do not know if you have gone insane. You do not know if you care.

There is only one thing you have not tried.

Instead of shooting them (one is far more evil than the other, yet he cares so so much more. that’s a bad thing, you know. you do not care.), you turn the gun upon yourself.

You see both of them moving towards you in shock. Your smile turns as cold as a winter’s wind.

You pull the trigger. You hear the gunshot, feel fire and pain searing through your skull, and then  _n o t h i n g_.

The darkness is as empty as an abyss and as harsh as the sea. It whispers to you, threatening to crawl inside of you and make you its home. You hear faint voices, those of making promises, those of saying sorry, those of saying you have a choice.

Then, you wake up. Your body aches, aches a thousand times worse than in any “ending” you have received. Your vision goes red-and-blue, just like  _him_.

You resist the urge to scream as you slowly stand. An unfamiliar man holds his hand towards you as you reel back in fear. He is holding a cane that you do not know. Are the loops over? Are they? Are they really?

“It’s all just a joke!” The man raves. He must be insane. You do not know him. His red suspenders are somehow familiar. You do not know why.

“Damien! Celine! Where are you?” You watch as he walks off, wandering the halls. You pity him. You were almost like him, but instead you had stood resolute. You had refused to crack, to break, to shatter into a thousand pieces.

You turn and pick up the unfamiliar cane. You feel something shift, something change deep within you.

And yet, you stand as strong as any mountain. You refuse to bend.

You look up into the mirror and smile at your own, familiar reflection. Power surged at your fingertips.

Now… now it was time to find some answers.


	2. Cyclical

You know that you must take careful steps. Careful careful careful.

You soon learn the name of the madman. It is William. His last name is lost amongst his murmurs.

You are an amalgamation - a horrific creature made of three different parts.

The majority of you is… you. The you from before. The you from the loops. (you still remember them, skirting at the edge of your every waking moment.)

The other two parts… red-and-blue. One is Celine. The other is Damien. You cannot tell who is older or if they are related. They do not talk to you.

You cannot blame them. You are the one that came and stole their plan right from under them.

You put a consoling hand on William’s back as he breaks. You have let him take the cane. You lead him out of the manor.

You sense a life, flickering and barely there, in the house. You cannot care if he lives or if he dies.

You smile grimly and let the manor burn.

“You will need a new name,” you tell William plaintively. You cannot remember your own. “How about… Wilford? Wilford Warfstache?”

The name rings in the back of your head, but you shove it away vehemently. There is no point in thinking about the past.

William - Wilford nods shakily. You smile at him and lead him gently away. The scent of smoke quickly fills the air as the house burns behind you.

Your aura, new and fledgling, crackles like lightning as you tear open the delicate veil between two worlds. It was oddly purple with hints of red and blue on the edges.

You shake your head. You have no time for such frivolities. The two in the back of your head murmur briefly every time Wilford enters your sight.

“After you,” you murmur to him. He carefully takes off his glasses and drops them on the ground. He steps into the portal and vanishes.

You follow after him, unknowing of where you will appear. You do not find yourself to care.

All you know is that you must get away from this place.

You end up in a field somewhere unrecognizable. You think you may be in Ohio. Or perhaps Michigan? It is hard to tell.

You begin to walk in one direction side-by-side with Wilford.

You have yet to choose a name.

* * *

Time passes. You and Wilford become what could pass as friends. He slowly becomes pinker and pinker over time.

You sometimes see him fiddling with his gun. You are not sure if he will shoot you.

There is occasionally something that pisses either of you off. Most of the times, it ends with a death and you are forced to leave town.

Being homeless is both harder and easier than you had ever thought.

Except you eventually come across a man - more of a boy, to be truthful - named Mark Edward Fischbach.

Your other parts surge at the name, threatening to break your dam. You force them away.

You and Wilford slowly worm your ways into his heart, into his head, into his soul. It is not hard. If anything, Mark seems most eager to interact with the two of you.

You take turns teasing his fans. You, with subliminal and creepy messages, beginning early. Wilford, with his …interviews later on, after gathering confidence.

Eventually, the fans give you a name; Darkiplier.

Not the worst thing you’ve ever been called, you supposed.

It becomes cyclical. You know there is a need for change.

That change would begin with a little ego named The Author.


	3. Circumscribed Lives

The Author has none of your elegance and none of Wilford’s excitement. He is, however, rather stubborn.

Unsurprising.

You clasp your hands behind your back, smiling at The Author. “Hello,” you say, keeping your voice low. “I hear you are the new… ego?”

Egos. That is what the fans call you. You are almost flattered, until you remember how egotistical you truly can be.

Author grins, placing his bat upon his shoulder. “I’d like to think so,” he replies. “I hear you need my expertise?”

“Quite so,” you murmur. “In fact, I need you to write me a book.”

“Oh?”

“Listen closely, Author, or the consequences will be… quite  _severe_.”

* * *

You do not know how long it has been since you have arrived at this world. It seems like decades.

You are forced to think about your own immortality more than once. Your other parts do not make it any easier, constantly arguing over one thing or the next in the back of your head.

Your aura shifts quietly from red to blue to purple on certain days. Wilford knows by now not to ask. He knows the reason why, but he does not bring it up.

Author, on the other hand?

Well, he’s about to learn.

“Why do you change colors?” The writer asks bluntly one day. You turn hard, cold eyes towards him. He’s standing next to you, putting his hands on the table. “Was that a sensitive subject? Sorry.”

He does not sound apologetic at all.

“Indeed,” you return. You see Wilford shift in the corner of your eye, but you make a simple shoulder gesture and he stops. “You should have known better, dear Author.”

Your voice is dark and flows like honey. You keep your tone dangerously cold.

The Author reels back, but it is too late. You have already stabbed his hand with your trusty pocket knife. His hand is pinned to the table. He chokes on his own cry of fear.

“You should not have prodded,” you say gently, appearing as kind and soft as any mother. “Now… get back to writing.”

You turn away and leave Author with Wilford.

* * *

You don’t know when you became a monster. Neither Damien nor Celine offer their so-called “advice” on the matter.

You no longer sleep. You no longer eat. You no longer do human things. Your life seems to be circumscribed; limited and restricted in a way that you hate. (it reminds you of the loops, unending, inescapable.)

You must be a monster.

You cannot bring yourself to care.


	4. The Inner Circle

The three of you sit at the table. The Author still has his hand bandaged. Wilford has his gun out and is fiddling with it.

You, on the other hand? You are the calm before the storm.

“We’ve gathered here today because someone has not done their job before the deadline.” You say. The Author all but quivers in fear. His hands grip the table tightly.

You make your move. Eventually, Author is backed into the corner, actually crying.

“Please, just give me more time!” He begs. “It’s hard to write!”

“You had enough time, Author,” your voice becomes pitiful. “Wilford, if you could please?”

“Of course!” Wilford practically chirps the words, bending Author’s arms so he cannot move, cannot fight back.

“Dark, no!”

You do not stop. You hold onto his face like that of a lover and press your thumbs into his eyes. At first, you are gentle.

Then, you press harder and harsher. Blood runs down your fingers. Author screams and it is music to your ears.

You stop abruptly. You do not intend to kill him, merely blind him.

You and Wilford step away, leaving Author a curled up mess on the floor. He is choking on his sobs, covering his eyes. A faint glimmer is in his hair, turning a lock of it gold.

Blood is on your hands, staining your white shirt red. You sigh.

“Look, Author,” you say, voice kind and soft. “You’ve gotten blood on my shirt…”

Then, you smirk at the irony. “Ah, wait, you can’t.” You shake your head and turn away. “Come, Wilford. We’ve got plans.”

Wilford follows you, as obedient as any dog. Author’s whimpers fade off into the distance as you leave.

* * *

Later, you come across The Author, but he goes by a different name now. His eyes are wrapped in bandages and he wears a trenchcoat.

Instead of writing, he murmurs a narration to see the world; and influence it.

Quite the shocking turn of events, you would say. Now, The Host is far more valuable.

Far more malleable.

* * *

You are sitting in Mark’s room, invisible, when it happens the first time.

You blink and instead of being here, you are there. A lounge, in some kind of office building. It is almost worrying, except you think you know what this is.

Celine has gone on more than one rant about alternate universes and pocket dimensions.

You have an idea of where and what this is. The two beings in the back of your head stir with every step you take.

You wander the halls for a while, eventually coming to the front door.

When you exit, you find yourself in front of an office building, just as you had thought. A sign just in front of the road says “Iplier Corporation”.

You smile. You can use this.

You turn around and head back inside.

* * *

Eventually, you pull Wilford and Host into your… pocket dimension, of sorts. They are the two in your inner circle.

Soon, other egos join you. King of the Squirrels, Silver Shepherd, Dr. Iplier, Google, and Bim Trimmer are among them.

The building changes to fit their needs, and yours.

You change as well. Your voice begins to have an odd effect on it, as if it were layered. Your own… then Damien’s and Celine’s, although all three are warped practically beyond recognition. A faint ringing begins to follow you.

You fear you are becoming too much like  _him_.


	5. In Orbit

The other egos begin to listen to you more and more as time passes. You do not know if it is because of fear factor, or because you are eldest.

They are all in your orbit, at your beck and call.

The Host is an excellent example of what happens when someone does not listen to you.

Celine and Damien seem to rebel against the idea of letting Mark live. You do not know why; he has done nothing to harm any of them. In fact, he is a kind man. Soon, they will change their tune.

Mark experiences changes as well. The death of a friend, the change of hair color, the change of location.

It is fine. You know he will be alright in the end.

The egos are given very little time in front of the camera. Hints and such are given by Mark, but nothing else.

In 2017, however, that all changes.

In the beginning of the year, for Valentine’s day, something extremely familiar occurs.

A Date With Markiplier.

This time, you are the villain. You are the one looming out of the dark, the one with the dichromatic aura of red and blue, the manipulator, the mastermind.

It is quite enjoyable, you come to realize, and you’d love to do it again.

* * *

You play along to Mark’s game, allowing him to assume. He does not know about the loops. It is not his fault.

When it’s all over and it’s all released, you feel the surge of power. It is like an electric shock, like ice water being poured over one’s head.

The others feel it too, especially Wilford. However, you feel it the strongest.

The fans have always been alive, like the low hum of an air conditioner that you have gotten used to. Now, they are definitely awake. They make theories, make art, and increase your power.

They do not even realize.

You know that Mark is planning more. You have not been this excited in a very long time.

For one, there is a reason that there is a new ego.

You survey the room as Bing makes his way in, making chaos as he goes. You shake your head, sighing.

“Can I shoot him?” Wilford mutters, pouting. “Pretty please? He probably won’t even die.”

You chuckle, patting his shoulder. “I’m afraid not. Not right now.”

You smirk as Wilford looks at you, obviously suspicious. “I’m almost scared to ask what you’re planning,” he tells you dryly.

You chuckle again and cross your arms. “Why, it’s not  _me_ , dear Wilford. It’s Mark.”

Wilford snorted. “ _Mark?_  You know he can’t plan for anything.”

“That’s where you were wrong.”


	6. Unending Spiralling

Google soon receives an upgrade and it spirals endlessly from there.

You barely have control and that makes you… displeased. You are colder, harsher, more dangerous.

The Googles grow stronger over time, but they are weaker apart than together. You are fully willing to take advantage of that.

You keep the Googles as separate as possible, giving them different tasks to keep them away from each other. Blue notices, but wisely keeps his mouth shut.

Red is violent, prone to aggressive tendencies, and willing to activate secondary objective at any time.

Yellow is… softer than his brothers. Sweeter, but more gullible. More emotive. (you were like him, once.)

Green, on the other hand, is irritable and often swears like a sailor.

So far, they have yet to show actual emotion. That pleases you.

There is a change coming and you know that you will be the center of it.

* * *

Mark proposes Markiplier TV to you. He asks for your (you and the other egos) help.

You accept with a soft smile. You cannot wait until you meet the rest of the team.

* * *

Teamiplier, as they’re called, are heartbreakingly familiar. (you cannot forget the loops. you will not. you cannot forget the two men who seemed to be with you the whole step away. this time, their names are Tyler and Ethan.)

They’re excited and slightly worried as all the egos gather into the conference room. You cannot fault them for that.

None of the team talks to you. Which is… unsurprising. You are supposedly Mark’s polar opposite, after all.

All the egos look slightly different from Mark - they could look like his brothers, or perhaps cousins, but not clones of him. It was almost amusing at how they had to hide.

They’re all given their parts and memorize and act and joke around. You already know what to say.

It goes off without a hitch.

* * *

You pace down the hall, looking around. “Wilford?” You call.

He’s… he’s your friend. Of a sort. Damien’s and Celine’s friend, which by proxy makes him your friend. You’re worried about him and you can never help it.

“Wilford?” You call again, pushing open various doors. Eventually, you come to him in a closet, curled up on the ground. You sigh.

You kneel on the ground next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Wilford, are you alright?”

He shakes his head quietly. “Does it ever stop hurting?” His voice is a raspy whisper, making you wince.

“No,” you reply. “You just make room for it.” You wipe away Wilford’s tears and help him stand. “Now pick yourself up and show yourself that it will get better.”

The words spill from your lips unbidden as if someone else had spoken them through you. You snarl internally at Damien and Celine.

 _It’s the only thing we could say to him,_  Celine retorts.  _Before we fade away completely._

You step out of the closet and head to a quiet room. That was true. Over the last few years, Celine’s and Damien’s presences were waning. Soon, they would not exist at all.

You do not know if that is a good thing or a bad thing. You are not sure if you want to know.


	7. Circular Circumstances

Time has seemed to slow to an incredibly slow crawl. 2017 seems to be lasting an eternity.

Google gets a joking spot for April Fools’. Mark and his friend Jack make a video teasing you and Jack’s own ego, Anti.

It is almost amusing. At least Mark can act like you.

The last of summer slips by with minor notice. You know that Mark is planning something big - heading out without internet, for him, is a big move.

You steeple your fingers and lean forward on your desk. Damien and Celine have become more unstable, both visually and mentally. Damien has large wounds that weren’t there before. Celine is gaunt, a haunted look in her eyes.

Both are skittish. Both are fading.

Neither have been remembered in a very, very long time.

* * *

You used to have a name, you think. You’re certain it used to start with a D.

But you cannot remember. In your private time, you flick between name sites, trying to remember.

One of them seem to be more important than the others; Drew. Four letters, just like Dark.

You say the name. Then, you pause.

“I am Drew.” The words cross your lips as you speak and then you know. Drew is your name. Or… or it was.

You shake your head and close the laptop. You are Dark now. Drew has no purpose.

But something in your heart knows you have found your name.

* * *

The egos wait with bated breath when October comes. This year, October has a Friday the thirteenth.

Knowing Mark, this is when he will strike.

Meanwhile, you prepare. You distance yourself from the others in all ways. This makes them skittish, but you do not particularly care.

Wilford hides more and more often. You can feel his dread.

The others are worried, and rightfully so.

* * *

Soon, Mark’s grand project is teased. The fanbase grows overnight, exploding with theories and thoughts.

You and Wilford wait and wait and wait. You are sick of it. It feels so much like looping and looping and-

Someone shakes you and you look up to see Host. His expression is somewhat grim.

“The Host asks if Dark is alright and if he needs help,” Host begins. He seems to consider saying something more but remains silent.

“No, Host,” you say softly. “I am fine.” You straighten your jacket and comb a hand through your hair. Your aura cracks, just a moment, to show red-and-blue instead of its uniform purple.

You sigh lightly and turn away. You stalk from the room.

* * *

Who Killed Markiplier is released.

Your head explodes with agony as Damien grows stronger abruptly. You’re half-incapacitated before the first day is over.

Damien is apologetic, as always. You cannot blame him; it was neither his fault nor his choice.

You all but live in the infirmary for that week.

* * *

The next episode is released. Celine grows stronger exponentially, slowly becoming as powerful as the first day you had met.

Wilford, at some point, collapses. He is still writhing in agony by the time Google and Bim bring him in.

You shake your head at his sorry sight and put a hand on his arm. He calms immediately after.

Bim, Doctor Iplier, and Google look on in surprise. Well, Bim and the Doctor. Google has only ever been impassive.

* * *

The third episode results in your own power growing larger. It sings in your blood and makes your aura become brighter. Celine and Damien have suddenly gone quiet.

The fourth episode makes you scream. You’re trapped in your own mind with no way out. You You You You were the District Attorney, except not. You had stolen their body (an accident, admittedly.) and their friends.

You stole their new start.

You don’t know if you can live with yourself after learning that.

* * *

The theories are what bring you back, surprisingly. You wake up sluggishly, blinking away sleep.

Damien and Celine are strong enough to be visible in the real world, if only by you. They look exactly the same as when the DA had seen them last.

Doc passes through Damien without blinking. Damien, however, grimaces. It must have been uncomfortable.

You look over at Wilford as Doc begins to speak. He still has not woken. Celine is by his side, a sad look on her face.

“Sorry, Doctor, what was that?” You ask abruptly, looking back at him.

He looks taken aback. “Ah… you’re in good health, but I’d advise you stay here for further-” He cuts himself off and wilts at your glare. “Er, right. You can be discharged now.”

You nod. “Good. Where are my clothes?”

The good doctor makes a gesture to a closet.

* * *

Later, at night, you slip into the infirmary while everyone is asleep. Damien and Celine follow you in, unable to speak or interact with anything.

You (all of you) sit at Wilford’s bedside. You place your hand on his, feeling as his hand twitches beneath yours.

“Wake up, Wilford,” you murmur. “You need to wake up.”

He was your closest friend and your right hand, no matter who thought otherwise. You needed him.


	8. Concentric Rings

Wilford wakes up on the twentieth of November. Everything resumes as normal.

Then, fall dwindles and December begins. Christmas stories spring up in various places on various sites. It gets a bit annoying, but you can handle it.

And then Mark makes a completely unexpected move that throws everyone off, including you.

The other egos cluster around Google’s computer. Bim is all but vibrating with excitement.

Mark replies again, under the guise of Bim himself. You can practically feel the fandom awaken in surprise. You almost start laughing but refrain from doing so.

A few try to interrupt “Bim”, going so far as throwing knives at him. An interesting way of how to deal with things.

The poor fan “dies” in a pool of… chihuahua-pirana hybrids. Bim is internally cheering; you can see it just by looking at his face.

You learn the name of this activity - roleplaying. Immediately, you are intrigued.

Pretending to be someone else for sport? In all honesty, it sounded like acting. But you knew that there was something else.

You turn around and leave the other egos to it. You have research to do.

* * *

Half-way through your research run, Mark pulls another move. It throws you off guard.

“100,000 reblogs, or Darkiplier and Wilford Warfstache die. No exceptions.” the post taunts. You grit your teeth.

“I do-o not think that M-Mark is be-ing ser-r-rious,” Google tells you. “St-statistics show that-t y-y-you and War-fstache are the mo-st favor-r-red of all the ego-o-s.”

You crack your neck. “I am well aware, Google,” you say flatly. Wilford is looking at the screen blankly. “I am certain we will deal with this.”

The fans scurry to reblog it. Many people make other accounts to reblog. Some hit their post limit. You are rather impressed; they reacted quickly and fairly calmly.

But then, it is too late. You barely have time to see the _“TIME’S UP!”_  before you are no longer in the room.

Luckily, Mark is alone.

You grab him by the shirt collar, growling. Your aura crackles like lightning, spitting out Celine and Damien for you to see. You slam Mark against the wall.

He grunts, looking at you in surprise.

“You cannot kill us,” you snarl. “Neither we nor they will let you.”

“It was a joke,” Mark gasps. You realize your hands are wrapped around his neck, choking him. You drop him, looking at your hands. He lands with a thud, coughing and clutching his neck.

You had lost control. You had let your anger control you.

“It was just a joke, I promise,” he says, looking up at you. There is fear, hidden deep in the back of his brown eyes. “Neither of you will die.”

You turn away, your purple aura cracking again. Damien’s and Celine’s ghostly visages are gone again. You take a controlling breath, restraining your rage, if for just a moment.

You exhale shakily and close your eyes. You clasp your hands behind your back, opening your eyes again. You look back over your shoulder at Mark.

“Make sure it stays that way,” you say frigidly. Then, within a single blink, you are back with the other egos.

You adjust your blazer, running a hand through your hair. Wilford gives you a nod.

You glance over at Host, who seems to have been murmuring your encounter with Mark the entire time. No one looks as if they are paying attention to him.

“We will not die,” you announce. You turn around and stalk away, not even bothering to listen to the egos’ reactions.


	9. Elliptic Halls

Time passes as usual. Mark goes to his mother’s house for the holidays. Things have calmed down by the new year.

Except, it is not as calm as you would have liked. When Mark travels back to Los Angeles, another… ego, of sorts, shows up.

Not named, not faced, it drops a so-called “mask” onto Tumblr. Many of the fans have already swapped over to the mask.

Unfortunately, it gets out of hand very quickly. You are less than pleased when the mask persists in places where it should not. You know at least four people have had panic attacks. Two have already been threatened.

It all stops by the next day. You are left to pick up the pieces.

The egos have gone haywire overnight. Ed has hidden in his room, mumbling wildly with a crazed look in his eye. Bim has taken to wandering the upstairs halls. Doctor Iplier has locked himself in the infirmary, waiting for it all to blow over. The minor egos have scattered to their own hiding places.

Google and Bing are nowhere to be found.

Host, Wilford, and yourself are seemingly the only ones that have been spared by the madness. Perhaps not even then.

* * *

Looking for the androids is far more difficult than you would have hoped. You check all of their usual haunts with no luck, then head to the basement.

It is dark as you cautiously head downstairs. You know the basement is large and mazelike. You must be careful.

You come across Yellow’s deactivated body first. You shake your head and continue on down winding halls.

The second is Green (with no arms) and the third is Red. Red has a missing eye. Oil is pooling around them, already cold. You know it is not long you will reach the center.

Before long, you come to the center room of the maze. Shuffling echoes around you, joined by odd electrical sounds.

You slowly approach the direction the noises are coming from. You finally see Bing and Google Blue. Blue is paralyzed from the waist down, sparking from one of his eyes; conscious, but barely.

You sigh. Bing seems majorly unharmed, except his glasses are gone. He seems to want to cry but is unable to.

“Oh, Bing,” you murmur, placing a seemingly comforting hand on his shoulder. “You should not have hurt the Googles.”

Your grip grows tighter as you throw him against the wall. Bing lets out a cry, hunching over. You crouch next to him, feeling Blue’s eyes burning a hole into your back.

“So… you can feel pain?” You muse, bracing your forearms on your knees. “Interesting.” You reach for one of his eyes, digging in. His exterior casing cracks around his brow and black oil pour out over your fingers. Bing shrieks in agony.

You rip it out, leaving his face a horrific mess. You look at the eye in your hand, with all its black “sclera” and orange “irises”. You let it drop to the ground.

You look down at Bing. He is huddled up on the ground, cupping his face.

“Clean this up.” You tell him and pick up Blue. You leave, taking long, purposeful strides.

* * *

The Googles are repaired and slowly return to functioning power. Yellow is the first to stand and walk properly, followed by Red and Blue. Green is last and you know he is swearing furiously whenever he thinks no one is looking.

The next time you see Bing, he has an eyepatch over one eye and is wearing cheap sunglasses.

He seems to be shy about his eyes. Well, eye, now.

Interesting. Perhaps you could use this.


	10. Helices

There is not much you can do in the way of leisure activities. Celine and Damien try (and fail) to coerce you into doing things. You deny them the pleasure of that.

Most of the time, you read. You read and read as if the books are going to be stolen straight from your hands. (it used to be a pastime of yours, before the looping had begun)

Other times, you write. It’s hesitant at first. Short poems and drabbles slowly grow into longer poems and short stories.

You do not know whether to be surprised or confident in your progress.

Damien and Celine do not offer their opinions, if they have any at all.

* * *

You remember the loops, one day, in the middle of a meeting. Your head swims, vision overlaying with the loops and with the room.

Someone puts a hand on your shoulder. You flinch and realize that all the egos have looked over at you. You look up to see Wilford, a worried expression on his face.

“I’m fine,” you try to snap, but the words come out raspy and croaking. “I… I just need to be alone for a while.” Panic begins as a tight ball in your chest and spreads as you stiffly stand. You walk out and let the door slam behind you.

You do not know when you start to run. You end up on the floor of your room, choking on a scream. Tears form in your eyes and roll down your face.

You are stuck in a loop, looping into eternity. The loops are unending and always and forever. You cannot break the loop this time. You don’t know why.

Why why why? Why did this all have to happen to you?

Why did you need to become Dark? Why why why?

Answers to your questions never come. Nothing ever changes. You are stuck in a loop. This one is infinite, perpetual in its repetitiveness.

* * *

You wind down from it slowly. You have claw marks on your arm and there is dried blood under your fingernails. You realize you did it to yourself.

You clean up carefully, dressing in new clothes. You avoid the piercing gazes of Damien and Celine. You dodge their questions and remain silent.

Wilford finds you afterward. By then, you are sitting in your armchair and reading. You know that the marks under your eyes are darker than usual. You pretend that nothing is wrong.

“What happened?” He asks. At first, you don’t answer. Then, you slowly turn your gaze towards his. You are hit with the first wave of weariness in years.

“I…” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I remembered something I’d… much rather not have.”

He nods in sympathy. His brown eyes are full of understanding. You abruptly know that he has experienced something similar; his quiet days, the days where he looks at his gun with a haunted look in his eyes, the days where he decides to be alone.

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You close your lips and let your head drop. “I’m sorry,” you finally say. You clench your hands tightly. Your aura crackles from purple to blue-and-red, just for a moment.

“Whatever for?” Wilford replies. “It wasn’t your fault.”

 _Oh, but it is,_  you want to tell him. Your shoulders shake and your eyes sting.  _It is all my fault but I do not have the courage to tell you,_

Instead, you stay silent. You stare at the now-closed cover of your book.

Eventually, Wilford stands and leaves.

You cannot meet Damien’s disappointed look or Celine’s hateful one. You cannot bring your pitiful eyes to theirs.

They  _should_  hate you, after all the things you have done.  _All of them_  should.


	11. False Denouement

You look into the mirror, hesitant. It would be the first time you looked at a reflection of yourself… in a long time.

Your face was all but identical to Mark’s, now. It used to be rounder, softer; but all of that had been taken from you. Your eyes had dark marks underneath them, like smudged eyeliner (it was not that, though). You are taller and more muscular than you were. Your body seems desaturated - you were neither completely gray nor completely in color.

Your aura, however? It is something else entirely. 

Purple, crackling along the edges in a violent display of red-and-blue. Your shoulders begin to quiver.

You tear your eyes away from the mirror, struggling to breathe. You let your eyes flutter closed. You need control.

Eventually, you begin to breathe again. Your body stops shaking. You carefully clasp your hands behind your back and walk away.

* * *

You are walking down the hall when Host pulls you aside. Half-worried, half-amused, you let him.

“What is it, Host?” You ask patiently. His face is grim as he begins to speak.

“The Host would like to inform Dark that there is something sinister trying to infiltrate the egos’ building,” he tells you. “The Host believes that it is targeting Dark himself.”

You turn this over in your mind, looking at it from all angles. “Thank you, Host. You may go now.” The Host lets go of your shoulders and walks quickly away.

You already have a plan forming in your mind as you turn back and loop (eternally, forever, always) down the hall again.

* * *

This so-called sinister being comes in. You are prepared for it. It is pitifully weak, barely larger than a child.

You crush it out of existence. Its struggle is weak and you smile as it collapses beneath your fingers with a ghastly shriek.

All the egos come out of their hiding spots. Bing and Bim are skittish, Host even moreso. Doc heads back to his infirmary promptly. Google immediately does some security scans.

You head back, retreating into your hallway. You can hear Wilford cheerily chatting to Yandere about slowly taking a man’s kidneys out while he is still conscious.

You shake your head. Some things never change, no matter what one does.

* * *

The side effects do not happen until later. You are forced to the ground in your agony. Blood bubbles up past your lips and your sight blurs.

You see two hazy figures, one red and one blue, on the ground next to you. You cannot breathe. You choke on the blood as it pours down your face. You hear Damien gagging and flailing on the ground. Celine is clutching at her throat out of the corner of your eye, tears rolling down her face.

Your eyes nearly roll up in the back of your head. You can sense Celine making a gesture and abruptly, you shatter into three different pieces from one point.


	12. A Broken Ring

You stumble forwards, not really focusing on where you are going. You crash into the wall and collapse to the ground.

Your sight swims and your head burns far worse than anything you have ever felt before. You groan, forcing yourself to sit up.

You focus past the pain, tears springing to life in your eyes. Two solid, darkly-dressed forms lay on the floor, making various noises of pain.

Celine and Damien.

You struggle to stand, wobbling as you move over to them. Celine is clutching at her head and is bleeding from the nose. Damien is in the fetal position, whimpering.

You swallow. You almost have no idea what to do, until you do. You manage to help Damien stand and you sling Celine between the two of you.

“Infirmary,” you tell him. He nods. You begin to trudge in that direction. You dissuade any curious eyes with a glare.

You all but kick open the door to the infirmary, eyes searching the room. “Doctor,” you call, keeping your voice cold. “We need your help. Now.”

Doctor Iplier looks up at you in surprise. “Oh… of course.” His statement seemed more like a question as he stood and headed over to the three of you. “Lay her down on the bed over there.”

You comply and take a seat. You look down at yourself for just a moment.

Instead of your usual suit, it’s the same one you had during the loops - slacks, blazer, dress shirt, and dress shoes. This time, however, your dress shirt is black instead of white. You glance over at Damien - the flower on his lapel is blue.

You turn your eyes to Celine; the stars on her dress are red. Your vision twists for just a moment and you press your hand against your forehead to stem the already forming headache.

You don’t focus on the doctor as he works on Celine. Damien takes a seat beside you and watches them fervently.

Somehow, despite all odds, you fall asleep.

* * *

Someone shakes you awake. Your eyes snap open and you start to lunge forward, but it’s just Doctor. You let out a shaky breath and close your eyes for a moment. After you compose yourself, you turn your gaze to him.

“Sorry to wake you,” he says, and he really does look it. “But I need to know your name. Celine and Damien say that they won’t tell it.” He makes a gesture to the two, who are sitting on the bed and not saying anything.

“My name is Da-” You cut yourself off. You aren’t Dark; not anymore. Not without them. You inhale sharply. “My name is Drew.”

Doctor nods. “Alright. It’s nice to meet you, Drew. I’m Doctor Iplier.” You nod.

“I know.” Then, you curse at yourself - you have already revealed too much.

He looks taken back, just for the briefest of moments. You smile, trying to appear friendly. (but you have been Dark for far too long)

* * *

You manage to avoid the other egos until the third day. Celine and Damien slowly accustom to having bodies again. It’s strange, seeing them in person.

Wilford walks into the infirmary one day, then stops completely. His eyes switch between you and Damien and Celine. The other two are quiet. So are you.

For once, you do not have anything to say.

“…Damien?” His voice cracks as his eyes shift to the woman again. “Celine? You… you’re not dead?”

You see Damien shift in the corner of your eye. “No, my friend.” The former mayor says lightly, taking a step forward. “We never were. Not truly.”

Wilford throws his arms around Damien. You sidestep to stand closer to Celine, then turn your gaze away. Wilford doesn’t know you - not really. He doesn’t know the you that you had been before the loops.

You seem to fade into the background as Wilford embraces Celine. You are not worth their attention. Not right now.

“I missed you,” he sobbed to them. “It was all just a joke, right?”

“Of course,” Celine lies.

She glances over at her shoulder at you. You look away, trying to escape her piercing gaze. This is their moment with Wilford.

You have no part in it.

* * *

You and Damien and Celine are like a broken ring. You never seem to be without each other. You travel together, like a pack.

You do not tell them that you get a headache every time they are too far from you. You do not tell them that you see Damien’s blanched face when you are on opposite sides of a hall. You do not tell them that you see Celine’s bloody nostrils when you enter a room again.

You see how Wilford looks at them when he thinks you aren’t paying attention.

You do not tell them about that, either.


	13. Vestigial Energies

It does not take much time before the other egos realize that Dark has seemingly vanished into thin air. It does not take them much longer before they realize that Damien looks almost exactly like him.

It does not take much longer for them to realize that you act like Dark; you and Celine and Damien.

Celine cracks her neck and knuckles, Damien tends to clasp his hands behind his back and lean forward, and you are the quiet, cool, suave one. You doubt it will take them very long to figure it out.

You run a hand through your short hair, head beginning to ache. You have been away from the other two for too long. You grit your teeth and look into the mirror.

It is your face; the one you had nearly forgotten. The familiar jawline, the color of your eyes, the haircut you had gotten for Mark…

You sigh. You thought you had loved your Mark, once. But after seeing some of how the loops turned out… you knew his true colors. You could not bring yourself to miss him.

Your gaze drops from the mirror.

Damien trips into the room and it hurts a little less. You squeeze your eyes closed. You eventually end up sitting on the floor.

You and Damien are back to back when Celine stumbles in. You see the beginning of blood dripping down her nose. She joins you on the floor.

You let your eyes close again. Your headache finally begins to subside.

You need to talk to The Host.

* * *

“Hello, Host.” Your voice is quiet and calm. The blind man makes no move to acknowledge you, but you knew that he had heard you. You sit in the armchair across from him.

“The Host greets Drew cordially. He asks if they would enjoy some tea,” he says, gesturing to the pot.

You shake your head. “Thank you, but I will have to decline that offer,” you tell him. “You… know who I am, correct?”

The Host carefully dips his head. “The Host does. You are… three parts to a whole, red and blue and purple all together, now broken.” He pauses, hesitant. “There is a way to put Dark back together again.”

His last sentence is soft, voice hushed with… fear, perhaps? Your body stills until you are forced to breathe again.

“Is there?” You ask, lacing your fingers. “Do tell, dear Host.”

His face is a grimace as he speaks. “It will take some time,” he says quietly, leaning forward so you can hear. On instinct, you lean forwards as well. “It will take time to gather the ingredients and to prepare.”

You nod and lean back. “I see. I will… allow you to do this. I will have to go soon.” Already, you could feel the pressure building up behind your eyes.

You savor the silence and solitude for a moment longer before you speak again. “You know, you never told me your name.”

The Host smiles. You roll your shoulders and stand, heading to leave. Just as you open the door, he speaks again,

“The Host’s name used to be Christopher.”

You open the door and leave the room.

* * *

There is some kind of electricity between you and Damien and Celine when you are together next.

The three of you stand together in a circle - well, a triangle - and hold your hands out.

Damien’s hand is below yours and Celine’s is above it. For a moment, nothing happens.

Then, your joined hands begin to glow, mostly a dark purple with wisps of blue and red and black. You feel sick to your stomach, but you cannot move away. Something is holding you in place.

Something explodes, but at the same time, not really. Fear lances through you for a brief moment. The light grows so bright you have to look away.

When you open your eyes again, nothing seems to have changed.

Except something has.

Damien’s flower is white now, along with Celine’s stars. You look down at yourself - the black shirt is white again.

Something akin to terror grows up in your chest as you look between the other two.

“What happened?” You ask, voice raspy. For a long moment, both are silent.

“I… I don’t know.” Celine replies. Fear is hidden in the back of her hazel eyes. “I think we may have… broken our bond.”

“The bond that made us Dark?” Damien inquires. She nods, grimacing. You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out a sigh. You stamp down on your fear.

“We… must continue life as normal as we can,” you say. “I suppose that this is a good thing.” The lie drips from your mouth like honey.

You would not deny it - you liked the power. You liked the control that being Dark had given you.

You would do anything to get it back.

_Anything._


	14. The Liar's Triumvirate

The Host comes to you after a week of being separated from the other two.

“It is ready,” he murmurs in your ear. You smile. “All you need to do is get Damien and Celine to the ritual.”

You nod, practically imperceptible.

You and Damien and Celine are considered the highest on the ladder, except for perhaps Wilford. But you know that even Wilford defers to the three of you.

The three of you are the triumvirate of the egos… and you have an idea of what to do.

* * *

You manage to convince three others to your plan; Bim, Google, and surprisingly, Doctor Iplier.

Bim is easily manipulated. You give him little white lies, twisting his thoughts against Damien and Celine. Soon, he begins to see from your point of view.

Google has always been loyal to you.

You blackmail Doctor Iplier, threaten to display all of his dirty secrets to the world, threaten to show the others his bad track record. Out of fear, he joins you.

You convince Bim to commit a crime.

The next day, you hear that Bim has killed a minor ego.

He will appear before you and Damien and Celine and answer to you.

* * *

"Bim Trimmer,” you say in the quiet room. Damien is to your left and Celine is to your right. “You are here to answer to a crime - murder.”

Then, it is a game of cat and mouse, going back and forth with lies and truth. It is nearly entertaining.

Soon, Bim is announced guilty and is confined to his room until further notice.

Egos always came back, after all.

* * *

“Damien, Celine,” you call to them, after. “Follow me. I have something to show you.”

The two exchange a look, but do as you ask. You feel a smile stretch across your face once your back is to them.

It was time to be Dark again. It was at your fingertips.

You lead them to The Host’s room. Once the three of you are inside, Google Green slams the door and locks it.

Google Red and Google Blue grab Celine and Damien respectively. Ironic.

You step aside, Doctor Iplier and the other two Googles surrounding them. You smile.

“Drew, what the hell?” Damien shouts, struggling against Blue’s grip. His eyes are burning with hatred, with sorrow.

“I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you.” Celine’s voice is quiet and sad compared to Damien’s.

“You should not have, but you did anyway,” you reply smoothly. “I wonder why that is.” You look over at The Host. “You may begin.”

The two Googles knock out Damien and Celine in sync. The two crumple to the floor in the middle of an odd circle. Red and Blue leave it, keeping to the walls.

The Host lets you light the candles and spill your blood into a bowl. Then, he begins to chant.

The candle flame flickers. The lights go out. Wind, seemingly from nowhere, starts up. You shiver.

Then, as he says the final word, the two people in the circle begin to glow. Host gestures for you to step in the circle.

You do.

Immediately, there is a surge of power. Red and blue peel away from Damien’s and Celine’s bodies and barrel towards you. You stand strong.

The spirits hit you and sink into your chest. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing.

Irresistable power surged at your fingertips, warming your blood. You let out a little sigh and roll your shoulders.

You felt your body shift, change to be how it was when you were Dark. Your aura erupts into purple. Damien and Celine are ghosts of their former selves; in this body, you are the ruler.

You open your eyes and look up at The Host. You smile.

“Thank you.” You say. He drops his head, looking nervous. “Your service today will not be forgotten. All of you.”

You meet the eyes of everyone in the room. Doctor cannot meet your gaze. The Googles nod.

Your story is done.

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you enjoy that? I sure did.
> 
> Keep in mind that this is a very tentative ending... you never know when inspiration hits.


End file.
